


love always wakes the dragon

by hoars



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of italics, Alternate Universe - Canon, BAMF!Stiles, F/M, Freeform, Goddess Trinity, Gore, M/M, Magic, Magic Comes in Threes, Mara - Freeform, Minor Character Deaths -- Erica and Boyd, PTSD, Scott is an Alpha, Sentient Woods, Summer Court, Tarot Cards, Tattoos, Torture, Troubled Family Relationships, Witches, alpha pack, bamf!Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoars/pseuds/hoars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you could only protect one person, who would it be?” </p>
<p>“Derek.” </p>
<p>“What would you do to keep him alive? What would you give up?”</p>
<p>“Anything. Everything.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	love always wakes the dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Character deaths are Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd. Troubled Family Relationship is between Stiles and his father. No descriptive use of PTSD or torture.
> 
> Based on Stephanie Pui-Mun Law's Shadowescapes Tarot deck. Title is from Richard Siken's poem, "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out."
> 
> Everything makes sense eventually, each card describes a scene from random intervals of time.

five of cups

There’s a cosmic balance and nothing can upset that balance.

Sometimes Derek and Stiles will both wonder privately if that’s why they both have suffered so much.

So they could have this – in all its gold, warmth and safety.

Privately, guiltily, in the dark, Derek and Stiles both think of all the death, grief and pain and think, _all of it was worth it._

queen of cups

It made no sense at first. How they always found each other when they needed each other the most.

Everyone assumed Derek and Stiles had a system or there was a plan or something logical.

What Derek and Stiles know is its instinct to be near each other when the other is in danger.

Derek once watched Stiles close his eyes and navigate a magic minefield. It wasn’t luck like Jackson sneered. It was ability and skill and intuition that lead him. Like it always leads him.

Like it leads them.

two of wands

The power of the alpha is nothing compared to the power Stiles lends him.

It thrums in his bones, whispers to him about protection and destruction and makes him howl a wild song.

He can feel Stiles’ heartbeat like it’s his own.

He surges forward and attacks the _mara_.

five of wands

There’s the Argents, the Alpha pack, Peter, the _mara_ , teenage stupidity, fairies, witches, humans, Scott’s mom, the Sheriff, every full moon, the tension springing between them, Deaton.

So many god damn problems to tear at them.

It makes him sigh.

A lot.

nine of pentacles

“I’ve had this gift my entire life?” Stiles asks. “Then why is it only manifesting now?”

Deaton taps his fingers on the sterilized table in his surgery. He appears thoughtful.

“Have you ever met Derek before?” Deaton asks.

“Yes?”

“Then you have your answer.”

There’s silence. “I don’t understand.”

“If you’ve had this gift your entire life, who is to say you haven’t been able to use it before? You just didn’t know _how_.”

the sun

Stiles wakes up from a dream and knows what he has to do.

He drives to the apartments on Daphne, goes up five flights of stairs and lets himself into apartment fifty-one.

Derek is waiting in the kitchen, palms against the counter, eyes red.

Stiles doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause for a second, and reaches for Derek, a hand pulling him forward to meet him, breathing heavily.

He doesn’t realize he’s still in his sleep clothes until Derek takes them off. Doesn’t remember how he got here except for the blur of street names and numbers. Doesn’t know why today, why it has to be today.

The clarity that follows Stiles lends itself to urgency and it’s nothing but _them_.

five of pentacles

The thing about loving someone is losing them hurts.

“Help him. Please.”

There’s no such thing as ego or dignity when it’s a loved one at stake.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Derek’s loved and lost a lot of people.

“I’ll do anything.”

He isn’t willing to lose more.

“Please.”

the fool

These are the words Derek makes Stiles think: dirty, sexy, filthy, sweet, sheets, bruises, teeth, fangs, lube, prep, tattoos, musk, lick, lips, mouth, green, fingernails, sex, oral, stubble, heat, tight, thick, gasp, moan, whimper, whisper, growl, ceiling, duvet, pillow, scratches, rip, blood, welts, red, sob, dirt, trees, pine, cedar, sage, soap, tomorrow, don’t, stop, please, come, kiss, now, me, blush, hands, fingers, hips, waist, legs, muscle, nipple, abs, breathe, pant, want, need, reckless, funny, laughter, cuddle, mouthing, throat, messy.

Notice how Stiles does not use thirteen year old girl words like passionate, magical or perfect.

Except for how it is.

four of pentacles

“What are you doing?” His voice is lazy, slurred and he only has one eye open.

“Nothing.” Stiles’ words hot on his chest.

He’s tracing something into his skin, starting from his collarbone and going down his side to his hipbone. Derek pays more attention, feels the curves, the straight lines, the drag of Stiles’ fingernail and watches him. “Possessive bastard.” He says fondly.

“It’s protection.” Stiles protests.

Derek doesn’t say anything else, but Stiles still twitters at the faint smirk curling at his mouth. “Unlike the unnecessary collar of hickeys you’re so intent on, wolfy.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Derek flips them over, pining Stiles between the bed and his body.

“Yeah?” Stiles teases. “Because I sort of think you do. Maybe next time I should get photographic evidence.”

“Yeah.” Derek affirms, pressing the word to his mouth. “Okay.”

ace of swords

The truth is often difficult to find in this town of liars.

That’s without mentioning the obvious webs of lies that each threat weaves simple by stepping on county land.

It’s why he prefers Stiles’ company. Likes how lies don’t fully form around him. They fall apart before they can be completed. Not that Stiles doesn’t lie. But he can’t. Not to Derek.

How can you lie to yourself?

You always know the truth no matter what is said.

four of swords

Derek has a few stolen minutes where nothing hurts and Stiles is sleeping.

The _mara_ has let go, Stiles’ heart beating its normal song. The color is returning to his cheeks. Black and blue bruises on his chest looking less compressed, like the pressure that had been bearing down was gone.

“The _mara_ will latch on to you soon, Derek.” Deaton says. “You should lay down.”

Derek touches the bruises Stiles always laughed about in bed and nods.

page of cups

“How do you know you love Allison?” Stiles asks.

“She—“ Scott stops and thinks. “When I’m around her, everything is perfect and okay. Even when it’s really not.”

The clouds drift by and Stiles can see their breath. Fall already frosting the grass and chilling the air.

“Sometimes, it feels like she’s the only reason any of this,” Scott shrugs. “Is okay.”

Stiles thinks about it. Thinks about life before Derek and werewolves. The magic he’s getting better at listening to. He doesn’t know if he loves Derek, sometimes he can barely stand him and his world view isn’t fixed by the knowledge Derek exists in it.

But sometimes, when he knows Derek is nearby, he feels safer. Looser.

Less hyper-vigilant and more attention deficit disorder.

death

The _mara_ is dead. His dad isn’t dealing. Scott’s angry.

Stiles’ world is coming undone.

His dad won’t speak to him, won’t look at him. Scott keeps growling, eyes glowing red. Deaton shakes his head sadly a lot.

But Derek is still there.

Cold leather, strong chest, steady heartbeat, cedar.

“Can I go home with you?” _Stay home with you and never leave?_

He’s drawing his lines in the sand. Putting his pieces behind Derek. Declaring his intent.

“You want to be somewhere else?” Derek teases, low and dark, pulling him in close.

“Many other places. Like in your bed.” And he doesn’t pretend its okay.

 It just is.

page of wands

The design is begging to take shape.

There’s swirls, lines, waves, dots, the tangle of roots, curves, tendrils, triangles, knots and runes.

Stiles bites his lip. Eyes the drawing. He knows there are delicate marks missing. The pieces that will liven the tattoo, make the ritual work. He just can’t find the piece he’s missing.

He makes a face and flips to a new page.

He begins again, thinking of the shadows of tree branches, the tangle of roots, the swirl of a shell.

Always again, again, again.

seven of cups

Erica and Boyd are gone.

The bonds between him and them completely gone.

Scott reclaimed his independence.

The break between Scott and Derek clean.

Beacon Hills has two packs of three and Derek wants to laugh at the mess everything is because what else is there to do? He can’t change anything.

But if he could, Derek would want them all back and close in his pack, feel the flares of their minds between his and the primal mind of his alpha. He imagines everything as sunshine and sunlight and happiness. He pretends everyone is alive and Kate was turned into the very thing she hated and kills her family.

But it’s all a dream; instead, he thinks about another body against his own, strong, rebellious and so damn distracting he takes all of Derek’s and the wolf’s attention.

king of swords

“Because you made your mark, okay?” Stiles shouts. “I tried avoiding you. I tried ignoring you. I tried everything! But you like hooked your werewolf claws into my soul and wouldn’t let go and I don’t even want to get away and you can’t do this. Not for me, so I’m going to fix it.” He wipes his face. “I’m gonna fix this.”

It takes him thirty hours to find the solution.

A protection circle made of runes in Stiles’ blood. The _mara_ should be expelled from the circle, unable to steal Derek’s life away. She’ll be forced from Derek’s dreams.

He doesn’t think about the people he alienated, the school he missed, the gauze bandages that will be wrapped tightly around his left forearm for the next week.

This will work. It has to. He _believes_ it.

three of cups

It feels different; unlike all the other times.

Before, there was always the threat hanging overhead that one of them has to go. Have to be home before dad. Have to spend time with Scott. Have to go to school. Have to deal with Peter. Have to train Isaac. Have to clean up after Jackson.

Frantic, desperate, hurried.

This time is slowly, a reaffirmation they’re alive, here, present, not leaving, ever. The slow kisses that run long and are deep, full of promises and time. The clothes inching off when kisses and caresses can be given up for a few seconds. The use of the bed and its softness, pulling them both down. The sheets cold with promises of heat in the morning. Whispers of intent, of the love that’s burned everyone away, the glow of magic still running through them. Delicate scratches calling up blood under tender skin, the bloody crescents that appear in Derek’s shoulder while Stiles’ bloodies his lip to keep silent, “Let it out. I want to hear it.”

It makes him think of two cups being poured into one and ribbons tying hands together.

ace of wands

Stiles’ symbol is a loose spiral with triangles on the outside like teeth or a dragon’s ridges. There’s a faint curve wanting in the spiral to match the tail. It makes Derek think of the sun and mountains and whirlpools –

Fire, earth, water.

The symbol is stark black against his skin, except for when Stiles touches it and it glows _gold_.

A midnight sun.

queen of wands

“ _Stupid_.” Derek snarls.

“Awe, come one, don’t give me a complex.” Stiles retorts.

“You could have _died_.”

“So could have you.”

Derek touches the bandages wrapped around Stiles’ arm. Blood staining the white in a spotted line. His life’s blood. The heart’s blood. Stiles’ face is gray and clammy. _Lost too much_ , Derek thinks grimly.

He struggles to say I care, you can’t die, and I love you, and only growls and half formed insults actually make it through his voice box.

“I _hate_ you.”

“I know you do.” Stiles laughs, hysteria tinting into something dark, and Derek crushes the boy to him so the wolf and he can reassure themselves. “I’d do it again. Thousands of times to earn your hate.”

the magician

“A riddle then!” Stiles proposes.

The Fairy Queen’s eyes are yellow like a bird’s. Her face is painfully beautiful, sharp and angular and perfect. Her black hair is black black like her soul and skin white like starlight is strapped underneath. “A riddle?” She sounds interested, amused.

Her court cackles and Stiles can hear whispers over and over, “A riddle, he said a _riddle_.”

“If you solve my riddle, I get the werewolves Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey and Peter Hale back.” Stiles swallows hard to keep his nerves and the desire to tell them they can keep Peter, even if it is a joke. “And if you solve it correctly, you get my name. My _true_ name.”

“Deal.” She smiles sharp. Her teeth pointed like lioness’. “Let me hear your riddle.”

nine of swords

The _mara_ kills three students.

She visited each person at night and straddled their hips between her thighs, her hands pressed firmly in the middle of her victims’ chests, her mouth hovering over theirs, leaving cracked ribs and black bruises in her wake.

She took the form of a beautiful woman. The horns nestled atop her head in blonde curls the only indicator she was something else. Not human.

The _mara_ killed three students before she visits Stiles.

He’s sure he’s going insane. More than positive something is stalking him, but Scott can’t smell anything and when he asks Derek frowns and shakes his head. He refuses to sleep and his hyper-vigilance and PTSD gets worse until he’s a twitching mess with bruised eyes, mumbling protections to himself.

It’s the night Derek holds him to his chest and Stiles falls asleep to the thud of a heartbeat the _mara_ is discovered and by then, she already has Stiles trapped in his nightmares.

the world

Stiles doesn’t remember much of his eighteenth birthday. April was a blur of fear and pain. He had things like the Fairy Court and finals in June to think about.

But graduation, he remembers sitting in his chair thinking, _I’m alive_.

It’s been two years since the supernatural invited itself into his life. His dad doesn’t talk to him, or maybe it’s the other way around. Scott was an alpha that Stiles saw as a threat and he glad (how the hell did that happen?) Scott would be leaving with Argents tonight, teaming up with them to hunt werewolves. Lydia and Jackson were getting married in the summer by _Stiles_ (and wow is he thankfully Deaton taught him how). Danny was a werewolf -- possibly the only werewolf besides Derek Stiles trusts at his back on a full moon. Isaac was making plans to ask Danny out. Boyd and Erica were dead. Peter was using his bond to Scott to reassure Melissa he’s alive to get close to her, or maybe that part hasn’t happened yet.

“Do you want to do anything special?” Derek asks.

Stiles thinks. “Does having loud, messy sex until Lydia and Jackson come over count as special?”

six of pentacles

Stiles chose Derek.

It’s as simple as that.

Scott killed his first alpha werewolf yesterday. Last night. His eyes flashing red. Stiles goes to sleep that night and wakes up knowing Scott doesn’t believe in pack because he still thinks he’s human. He’s not in the way that matters to the Argents or to the Hales.

Stiles wakes up and gives in to intuition and instinct.

seven of swords

“He’s my friend.” Scott says.

His eyes are blood red, claws flexing saliva drips down lengthened fangs.

“So?” Derek asks.

“Stay away from him.” Scott snarls. “He isn’t yours.”

“Go away, Scott.” Derek says. He’s amused. “I don’t care what you and yours do.”

He watches Scott leave and doesn’t stop watching him until steps over the territory line that makes this Hale territory.

Peter clicks his tongue from behind him. “The boy was always a little slow on the uptake.” Derek snorts. That was an understatement. Peter didn’t have to show Scott the basics. “He doesn’t even realize he has no one left but the hunter. It’s a little sad.”

“Why did you bite him?” Derek asks.

“It was dark.” Peter shrugs.

page of swords

“We’re going to play a game.” Lydia says.

She sits next to him in the snow. Stiles eyes her. She’s dressed in purple snow gear with a green scarf. He always did love Daphne. Much like Daphne, she holds herself like she’s the queen of Coolsville.

“Okay,” he shrugs.

“You can’t lie. If you don’t want to answer, say so. Don’t deflect.” He nods. He can do that. She’s kneeling alongside him in the grass. Her dress is spring green. “Are you going to leave Beacon Hills? For college? At all?”

“I can’t. Won’t.” He shakes his head.

Her jeans crunch the dry leaves when she shifts.

“If you could only protect one person, who would it be?” She asks.

“Derek.” Stiles answers. He thinks about the people he’ll lose and is sad, but it’s the truth and has been for awhile now. He’s willing to give up a lot for Derek.

Snow lands in her hair and melts. Soaks his jeans and he hugs himself despite his layers. “What would you do to keep him alive? What would you give up?”

Stiles blinks three times. Green dress. Blue jeans. Green scarf. The questions the very ones he’s been scrambling to answer but seem so simple when Lydia asks. “Anything. Everything.” And he means it.

“Okay.” She breathes deep. “What have I been wearing while we talked?”

“Snowsuit, a dress, and jeans.” She pushes herself from the snowy ground and leaves falls from her knees while summer pulls at her hair. “Okay.”

She’s leaving, going back to Jackson at the Hale house when he blurts his question because he has poor self control. “What am I wearing?”

“His jacket, your red hoodie and jeans. A white shirt and black jeans. A gray long sleeve.” She calls over her shoulder.

He doesn’t ask her anything else. Lydia and he are made of the same raw materials. Her answers would only reflect his with Jackson on her mind.

the high priestess

Stiles learns the basics from Deaton and puzzles out the rest in his spare time.

As long as he believes, it works.

This is why Stiles is busy in class drawing sigils for protection on his arm in Sharpie. Scott staring at him pointedly and when Stiles looks up with a grin, Scott dramatically wrinkles his nose.

Stiles wrinkles his nose back and goes back to work.

At lunch, Scott pounces on his arm and peers at the symbols. “What are these for?”

“Protection. I’ve been practicing since the alphas will probably attack soon. Better safe than sorry.” He shrugs. “The night I turn eighteen I should get them tattooed on with my life choices.”

Scott laughs. “Think they’d work on me?”

the devil

After the first time, in the wake of the last battle against the alphas, it doesn’t stop.

It’s a haze of flesh when Derek tries to remember. It’s the warmth of Stiles’ body and the scent of them of him on him, the heartbeat Derek can feel his own trying to match, the words Stiles uses to drown everything out.

Derek finds himself desperate and stupid. Constantly reaching for Stiles, turning like he’ll always be there, pulling the boy into his territory, invading Stiles in his.

It’s constant and fast, and Derek feels hollow every time he has to leave or Stiles does. Empty and insane because a seventeen year old boy shouldn’t have this pull on him.

It probably isn’t healthy. Isn’t healthy.

But Derek is selfish, if Stiles wants this too -- wants Derek and what they are and could be -- he won't say a word to warn him off. Just hold on to what was given to him with hands, claws, teeth and fangs.

five of swords

“Is it wrong Stiles that I just want to keep my kid safe?” His dad shouts. “I don’t want you involved in this!”

“I’m already involved.” Stiles shouts back.

“You almost died because of Hale! You almost died _for_ him! Why would you do that? You needed a _blood transfusion_ , Stiles!”

“Because someone needs to give a damn about what happens to him and I’m someone! I’m actually someone very invested in whether he lives or dies!”

A horrible understanding dawns on his dad’s face. “I want you to stop. Stop it all. The magic, Hale, the werewolves, all of it.”

“ _No_.”

knight of cups

Derek knows he’s hurting Stiles, can smell the blood from where his claws are piercing Stiles’ hips, but he can’t let go. Can only hold Stiles tightly in their bed, in their apartment, away from the woods and the Summer Court.

This is their domain and none can breach the threshold.

“Derek,” Stiles hands are strong where they press into his arms, keeping Derek’s hands where he wants them. “Derek, I want to tell you something. Important. About me. Not life changing but something you don’t know about me. That you should. That I want you to know.” Stiles clings tighter. “My name.” He swallows. “It’s Pryderi.”

“Pryderi.” Derek repeats tasting the name for the first time and he can feel magic, Stiles, settling over his skin and the pack bond that never formed between them springs to life from nothing to blazing.

“Names are power.” Stiles says. “And now you have both.”

eight of wands

“And boys, be careful. There’s an alpha pack in the area.” And Chris Argent closes the door.

They stand on the Argents’ porch in stunned silence. “What?” Stiles hisses. “What the fuck is he talking about? It better not be what I think it means. Because we have our hands full with one alpha. We really don’t need a whole pack of them!” He waves his hands.

“I don’t know.” Scott shakes his head. Stiles narrows his eyes. Guiltily. Scott shook his head guiltily!

“What aren’t you telling me?” The unspoken “now” making Scott flinch.

“I told Derek I was done with it all. With him. And not to bother me about any of this.” He flaps his hand weakly. “I told Isaac too. And Jackson.”

“And sent them both back to Daddy Derek’s open arms?” Stiles hisses. He’s feeling like a snake with all this hissing. “How can you not see that as a bad idea?”

“Because I’m done!” Scott says. “I’m tired of this being my life. I just want to be Scott.” Stiles softens at his best friend’s tone of voice. “Just normal, human Scott.”

“Okay.” They leave the Argents’ and it’s on the way home Stiles says what he’s thinking, “Do you think the Argents care you’re bowing out? Or this vague but scary sounding alpha pack?”

There’s no response but a heavy silence and maybe that’s answer enough.

knight of swords

“Out of the images before you, only one is a constant in my nightmares. You get to pick two.” Stiles says steadily.

“And who are they?” The Fairy Queen asks. Her yellow eyes focused completely on the illusions standing shoulder to shoulder in a line next to Stiles.

“My dad, my lover and my enemy.” Stiles says, pointing to the images of his dad, Derek and Gerard Argent.

The Queen measures each illusion with her yellow eyes. “A child always fears for a parent. Especially if the child has already lost one.” She smiles, smug. “But one who knows loss would cling to a lover but surely yours would also haunt your nightmares as a beast.” She gazes at the illusion of Gerard. “Even I know this is the face of a man who made you question your beliefs. Your magic.” She touches the illusion of Gerard and it collapses. “Your father and your lover. Mortals always fear the loss of affection. Fear loneliness.”

Stiles lets out a breath and flashes his teeth in the mockery of the Queen’s smile. “Wrong. Now give me the werewolves back.”

The Queen’s face distorts in surprise. She’s trembling with rage or something else he doesn’t know, but gestures for her guards to bring the werewolves they stole, bound with wolf’sbane and drop them at their feet.

_Derek_.

“The answer, mortal?”

Stiles doesn’t look away. “Of the images before you, only I visit every nightmare.”

The Queen laughs, the ugliness leaving her face. “Clever little devil.” She bends over neatly at the waist and kisses Derek lightly on the mouth. “Much like us.” She bestows her kiss to Isaac and Peter. “How strange you are.”

She takes an apple blossom from her dress and presses it into the skin of his left forearm, next to the scar his adventure with the _mara_ left and it melts, leaving a pale vision of the apple blossom. “A token. So you may call upon me again if you have need of me.” She steps close, into his personal space and smells like apples too. “I, Queen Saphina of the Summer, pledge to answer your call.”

six of swords

“She won’t ever be allowed back here.” Stiles says. “The woods won’t allow it. I won’t allow it.”

“How?” Derek asks.

 His skin is still covered in the wounds the fairies left in their experiments, and they ache. He’s never been this tired. Not even after being poisoned by wolfsbane or when Peter stuck a hand through his chest.

“Something she said got me thinking. About how I’m like them.” Stiles drops more seeds. “The Summer Court is hers because it’s her power feeding it, protecting it. It’s why the Summer and Winter Courts can never be in the same place at the same time. It’d be magical trespassing. So I’m making the woods my Court.”

“So they can’t trespass.” Derek murmurs.

“Exactly.” Stiles grins. “But my magic has to have roots here. Has to be in everything to make it strong.”

“And the seeds?”

“Well,” Stiles says. “The woods are about to get crowded.”

At the Hale house, in a circle safe from the seeds Derek saw Stiles litter everywhere, he closes his eyes. “This will work better if you touch my skin.” Stiles opens an eye. “And don’t freak out.” He closes the eye again and the woods _burst_.

Each seed becomes a plant that grows mature in seconds, the trees get bigger, older, birds fly away in surprised squawks, scents assault Derek’s nose, the ivy steals the Hale house back to the wild, a tree shooting from its center.

“Wow.” Derek can’t avoid saying.

The woods pulse in his mind like Isaac, Jackson, Peter and Stiles do. Stiles made the woods apart of his pack. That—that was _insane_.

“Admit it,” Stiles says faintly, blood dripping from his nose. “I’m _badass_.”

two of swords

It’s a full moon tonight.

Scott keeps to his bedroom. Wisely doesn’t leave the dwelling. Deaton most likely warned him against it.

The woods belong to Derek. To _them_.

Isaac chases Peter. Learning how to hunt like Derek had. He can hear Lydia and Stiles; somewhere high in a tree, practicing a dead language and Jackson is to his left. Breathing too heavily, his steps breaking twigs when he should move soundlessly.

The Argents are creeping around the edges of their territory. Testing the boundaries. But not breaking them. Not yet.

Three factions. Unable to spread their arms without causing a war and like Peter said, “We have the biggest stick. _We_ have the advantage.”

knight of wands

“What are you doing with her?” Derek asks.

Both their eyes are focused on Lydia. She’s translating a grimoire Peter hunted down especially for her.

“Making our pack something to fear.” Peter answers.

the lovers

They go to Monterey, down by the ocean, where Derek got his tattoo.

The tattoo artist is _old_.

Older than anyone Derek has met and when Derek comes by with Stiles, she flips her blinds closed and locks the shop door. She takes them to the back and they watch her take a brown box from a high shelf. Her hands wrinkled and weathered.

“This will hurt, wildling.” She smiles at Stiles and then turns to Derek. “Especially you wolf-brother.”

Derek stands by and allows the woman to mark Stiles. Protection. Intuition. Focus. Stiles’ symbol. Derek’s symbol. The spiral sun with razor teeth is gold against his chest, the triskelion faded in the background.

His nails bite into his palms and listens hard to Stiles’ blood moving in his veins and tries to swallow the calm Stiles is projecting.

“Your turn, wolf-brother.”

She tattoos Stiles’ mark over his chest, directly across from the triskelion.

“This is heavy magic.” The Crone warns them. “Take care of each other. You will not like the consequences if you do not.”

the chariot

On Walpurgis Night, Stiles and Lydia sit across from each other, a candle blazing between them. Isaac, Derek, Jackson and Peter are mathematically spaced, each the point of a square with the two humans as the center. Jackson holds the bowl of water. Peter the little silver bell. Isaac a handful of graveyard dirt. Derek holds the small little glass ball Lydia spent weeks working on, gold dust floating inside. 

On this night, magic is thick and wild and temptuous.

In one exhale, Lydia’s and Stiles’ heads bow and the werewolves can’t hear anything. The world is eerily silent. Then the pack follows, one by one.

And they all see a future with a house of stone, children’s laughter, Stiles running from a mock growling Derek, leading him into the woods. Peter dancing with Melissa in a garden, twirling her around, white in her hair. Isaac being ganged up on by five little girls and boys with Danny swooping down to pick one of the boys over his head. A pregnant and barefoot Lydia surveying it all with a face untouched by time, flowers in her hair and Jackson holding her hand tightly. The woods thriving with power.

They all jolt back when the wind blows out the candle.

“That’s gonna be ours?” Isaac asks the question on everyone’s mind, his voice full of awe.

three of swords

Erica’s scream broke the air and for a second, Stiles felt the battle between Beacon Hills and the Alpha pack slow.

She’s running towards a black monstrous wolf he thinks is Derek and he can’t see why she’s upset from his vantage point. Not yet and then the wolf goes for Erica and Stiles can see Boyd and his ripped out throat. “They’re my responsibility.” Derek had said to Chris Argent and Stiles didn’t know why he had thought they were talking about redemption.

“I brought you into this world,” his mom used to joke and he sees Erica hold her stomach, trying to keep entrails in. “I can take you out.”

He feels numb.

“Derek!” Peter shouts.

He’s fighting off three giant wolves and Derek quickly barrels into two. Snarls loud as the two packmates tear at the alphas, leaving them gurgling and dying.

From his side, Jackson snarls. “Finish the spell, Stilinksi.”

Scott howls and it’s a terrible sound, like crying and the alphas are taking _everything_.

“Scott!” Allison’s arrows find their targets – thunk! Chris’ gunshots puncturing the air. People are dying. People are killing. And it’s all horrible. He can’t breathe.

“Stiles!” Jackson shouts in his face. “Lydia and Isaac need you to finish the spell!”

the moon

Great power is born from great sacrifice chained by great responsibility.

Magic always comes in threes.

“You aren’t a werewolf. You aren’t in his pack.” Scott argues. “You can’t be.”

Stiles laughs bitterly. “I’m not _normal_. Did you see what Lydia and I did to the alpha pack? We killed five people, people, Scott! With one spell! I might not be a werewolf or in Derek’s pack but I’m not normal! I’m not okay!” He squeezes his eyes shut to stop the burning tears. “I’m not fine. But Derek and Isaac and Jackson and even creepy Uncle Peter make me feel like I could be.” He breathes out hard. “We killed people, Scott. I can’t – just because they were werewolves doesn’t mean they weren’t people.”

“Stiles, let me help. I killed werewolves that night too. I know what it feels like.” Scott pleads. “You can rely on me. You don’t need Derek or his pack.” He makes an abortive motion towards Stiles, maybe for a hug but stops short.

“I _can’t_.”

The greater the loss, the greater the power, the heavier the burden.

Magic always comes in threes.

ten of wands

“Dumbasses made themselves sick.” Jackson snorts and Derek wants to agree, but Stiles has been insisting on showing a united front lately. He thinks keeping his agreements to himself might be the wisest and Peter chuckles like he knows exactly what’s going through his mind.

He passes a heavily sleeping Stiles to Derek and this close, Derek can see the shadows under his eyes, the pale skin too stretched over his cheek bones. “How?”

Jackson makes a face. “They’ve been playing a _game_. To see who could complete the most extra credit projects and modify the most spells from that stupid grimoire. They haven’t been eating or sleeping.”

“Dumbasses.” Derek agrees fondly, unable to stop himself and at least Stiles is asleep and unaware.

king of cups

Peter set the apartment up for Derek during the alpha pack mess and one across the hall for himself and Isaac. Derek was wary. He didn’t want to talk about any of it yet. But Peter had only commented on Derek’s self-loathing and left Derek alone.

It is months later, after the _mara_ attack, Peter begins to speak.

All of Stiles’ things are in a small pile against his living room wall, having taken it all from the Sheriff’s house while the man was at work and Stiles at school. “I don’t want to make it harder than it already is.” Stiles admits in the darkness of _their_ bedroom.

“I heard you. Every time you came to talk to me.” Peter says. Derek stares at the wall. “I didn’t mean to hurt Laura. But I had declared vendetta and she appeared. I killed her. I thought she was my sister, your mother, back from the dead to haunt me for not taking care of you two.”

“Your point?” Derek asks. Voice raspier than he liked.

“I have nothing but good intentions towards you and your pack.” Peter says. “Pack should stand together.”

Derek breathes shallowly, tries to keep still. His thoughts are racing and he _hurts_.

It’s easy to reach for Peter, to hug him and not-cry.

the hierophant

“You can’t teach me anything else.” Stiles says and he’s sorry.

“Maybe one more thing.” Deaton smiles kindly. “Magic is neutral. From the earth. You will find your next teacher in the First Tree.”

“How do I find the First Tree?” Stiles asks. “Is it like Yggdrasil?”

“That part of the lesson.” Deaton shakes his head. “Good luck. And tell Miss Martin sea salt will solve her problems.”

the star

“So, have you ever had sex while werewolfed out?” Stiles asks and Derek immediately looks up. “Because I think that’s something we should try.”

Stiles is grinning down at him, swiveling his hips and gripping the werewolf’s wrists tightly. Derek can see the tattoos through his Second’s shirt. There’s a new one, winding up his left arm to his chest like tree roots. The First Tree’s claim on Stiles. Stiles once called his left arm his magic arm and Derek agrees.

“I don’t want to turn you.” Derek says.

His eyes red and fangs elongated. It’s no longer a matter of hurting Stiles, an impossibility Derek has come to accept with a secret joy.

“You won’t.” Stiles promises. His eyes completely black. “Trust me.”

“I do.” Derek lets the rest of the change happen and lets his wolf closer to Stiles than he ever does in these intimate moments.

ten of cups

It’s Peter that recruits Danny. “I found this lonely boy who thinks he went insane because he thinks werewolves and magic are real.”

“Danny.” Jackson says and it’s _interesting_. His voice inflection strangled.

“I hate you. So much. _Werewolves_ , Jackson?”

“To be fair, Derek told him not to tell anyone.” Stiles says diplomatically.

“And I did everything but spell it out for you.” Lydia sighs.

Derek is about to say no, really, when Isaac smiles shyly at Danny and he reconsiders Peter’s motivations. Peter wouldn’t bring the kid here just to expand the pack and their power. He’d have real reasons and Peter did live with Isaac. Even likes him. And then remembers Walpurgis Night.

“You won’t regret it.” Stiles sing-songs. “Promise.”

“So annoying.” Derek grouches and nips his Second’s ear. “Fine.”

It feels like a full circle. Like the last circuit has been connected and they’re complete. And he doesn’t regret it like he has in the past which is the real surprise.

the wheel of fortune

“Anyone else feel sorely under prepared? No? Right. Just me.” Stiles wipes his hands on his jeans.

All of Beacon Hills protectors are gathered together. Allison is counting her arrows. Christ Argent is cleaning his gun with fluid movements. Scott’s pacing, tugging on his hair. Jackson is vibrating next to a studious Lydia with restless energy. Isaac listening attentively to Peter’s advice on how to dispatch an alpha if one comes after him and Lydia and Derek—

“You won’t be in the middle of the fight.” _No, but people I care about will be_.

“I know. But I still feel like we’re all going to die horribly. Like limbs torn off and smacked around by the bloody ends to add insult to injury.” Stiles jitters.

“We’ll survive.” Derek squeezes his shoulder. “You just have to believe.”

“Because that’s so easy.” Stiles says weakly.

“It’s never stopped you before.”

page of pentacles

Abstractly, Derek knew Stiles was smart. Extremely smart, but it had gotten lost in the face of life or death and the boy's _mouth_.

Three weeks of living together and Derek takes a guilty pleasure out of watching Stiles study. It’s frightening, watching Stiles take all his focus and put it on schoolwork, his laptop and his “cookbooks,” as he Lydia have dubbed all their magic books. Derek used to find a convenient excuse  to be at the same table as Stiles when he did his work, but dropped the pretenses in favor of resting his head on his folded arms.

“You’re such a creep.”

Derek nods in agreement and keeps watching.

ace of cups

Derek remembers Stiles licking the scrap on the heel of his hand and thinking _, I want to do that_ , and it spread like a disease.

Stiles remembers Derek’s stupid, fake smile when he explained to the ER doctor in Sacramento that Stiles had been messing with too sharp kitchen knives (stupid alpha pack and their stuipid kill the human game) and his heart began to speed up and he licked his dry lips.

That’s how they both remember the first stirring of something _more_.

How it really begins is in the woods when there’s a discussion about property, an inhaler and the very beginning of the Hale pack.

three of pentacles

It’s a game Derek nearly forgets how to play and he can’t help but smile a little. Isaac is breathing hard, leaves in his hair from the last time he tried ambushing Peter.

“Jackson’s over by the creek.” Derek breathes into Isaac’s ear. “We’ll take him from both sides. You want the left or the right?”

“The right,” Isaac breathes back.

They both begin creeping towards Jackson and split up. It’s as they get into scent range and attempt to rush Jackson, Peter drops from the trees and tags Derek and Isaac out.

“Aw, damn it.” Isaac whines.

“Dishes are your guys’!” Jackson taunts.

There’s a beat while Peter and Jackson bask in their triumph when Derek pointedly looks down at Isaac who grins. “Last team to the cars does the grocery shopping.” Derek trips Jackson into the creek and runs after Isaac, Peter hot on their heels.

the hermit

Stiles sits and leans against the giant redwood and closes his eyes.

His breath slows and deepens and he sinks into his thoughts.

He thinks about Derek, what the pack is, the individual members of the pack, Scott, Allison, his dad, his mom, music, Melissa, right and wrong, school, fairies, new threats and the old, the glimpses of the future, the magic and _breathes_.

His teacher grows.

six of cups

None of them play on the lacrosse team anymore except for Scott, so once in awhile, if there’s nothing that wants them dead or maimed, Stiles, Jackson, Isaac and Danny get their sticks out and they scrounge up a ball. Lydia presiding over them as referee.

They’ll play for hours. At strange hours. Until they’re nothing but sweaty, tired teenage boys laughing at stupid things and Lydia laughing at stupid boys.

temperance

The blood is still fleeing his left arm, but Derek is awake now and Stiles doesn’t care.

The _mara_ let go of Derek.

He’s so happyrelieved that he just stares at Derek. Derek makes a sound like Stiles punched him in the solar plexus and grabs his still bleeding arm. “Why?”

_I love you_ seems a little strong but it’s the reason. “I’m not losing you.” He says instead. “And we’re bringing that bitch down. Tonight. No one nightmares me and gets away with it!”

He removes the hand he’d been using to put pressure on the wound and wets his fingers in his blood and begins painting Derek’s face. “I can’t do anything. She’ll kill me if she gets me again. But I can give you a boost.” Stiles smirks at Derek’s stunned face and begins working on the back of his hands.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers.

_Derek will have my power. It will protect him. It will fill him and be used by him._

And believes.

king of wands

It starts as a game of survival.

Stiles running into the woods that are theirs; Derek chasing after. The woods help Stiles and hinder Derek. Trees moving. Branches suddenly dropping. Buds blooming fully to erase Stiles’ scent. When Derek finally pounces on Stiles, traps him on the ground, they’ve reached a giant redwood Derek’s never seen before. Not that that’s unusually since Stiles made the woods his Court.

It ends in the roots of the tree, Stiles’ hands tight in his hair, his mouth coaxing whines and desperate pleas from Stiles. Green bursting and life renewing itself.

“ _Der_ -ek.” Gasped out.

two of cups

“Danny’s interested in Isaac.” Lydia says. “Apparently shy and insecure is his type.”

Stiles hears a thunk as someone loses concentration and runs into a tree. He can maybe hear Jackson’s laughter and someone’s panicked denials.

“How interesting because I think Isaac secretly wants Danny’s tongue in his mouth.” Stiles tell her.

There may be strangled sounds and desperate calls of, “Derek! Make them stop!”

“It could also be because he’s a nice guy. I hear people like them hot and sweet.” Stiles muses.

“Those poor depraved people,” Lydia shakes her head sadly. “The sex must be so boring.”

“Oh my god. Lydia. Please stop. I’m begging you.” Danny shouts.

“It must be strange.” Stiles agrees. “I wouldn’t know what to do in a relationship where I’m not told to shut up—”

“Pushed away—”

“Pushed around—”

“Hated—”

“Threatened—”

“Screamed at—”

“Actively annoy—”

“Barely tolerated—”

“Barely _tolerate_ —”

“Bitten—”

“Sucked on—”

“I think I should speak to you both about healthy relationships.” Peter says dryly. “In any case, I believe you’ve mortified Danny and Isaac together. Congratulations if those were indeed your intentions and you didn’t simply desire to compare your relationships.”

four of cups

“Allison kissed me last night. After the fight.” Scott says. Stiles mutes his phone and hurriedly drops it on the floor next to his hoodie. Derek smirks as he hears Scott keep speaking. “She said I was brave.” He mouths Stiles’ throat, scratching the tender skin. Stiles’ holding head to his throat, the other clutching at his shoulder. “I think she wants to get back together.” Derek can feel the vibration of a whine under his mouth. “She even said her dad was okay with it. I think.” Stiles bites at his ear, and soothes it with a swipe of his tongue. “I think this is my chance.” Derek growls and bites the skin he’d been sucking. “I still love her.” Stiles nails scratch at his back. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Stiles and Derek don’t stop either.

eight of swords

“I’m not doing this.” Stiles shakes his head.

“Stiles!” Scott says. “You shouldn’t be doing this with him.”

“Like you shouldn’t with Allison?” Stiles snaps back. “She’s a hunter from a family of hunters who really know how to hold a grudge.”

“Derek’s like ten years older than you. He’s bad news. Every since he’s come here our lives have been shit.”

“And you haven’t noticed she only loves you again after you’ve killed an alpha werewolf? How long do you think that will last? Huh?” Stiles laughs. “Fuck it. I have been nothing but a good friend to you, and because I am a good friend, I’m not getting into this with you. I want this, him. It makes me happy. Do you really want me to walk away from something that makes me happy?”

Unlike most of their fights, neither one of them comes to find the other to apologize.

justice

“If you go out that door, don’t come back.”

He’s at the threshold of the front door and sees nothing but visions of the future when he looks at his father.

If he leaves now, his father will live. Stiles may never speak to him again, but he’d be alive. If he leaves now, he’ll be leaving behind the tatters of his old life. If he leaves, gives his father up, he could gain so much more.

“I know.” And steps out the door.

nine of cups

“You’re such a creep.”

Derek nods his head and inhales. Can smell the magic and oranges and cloves of Stiles’ scent and it tingles his nose.

“God, you’re so weird.”

But Stiles pulls him close and Derek licks the skin Stiles willingly gives him. He tastes like magic and oranges and cloves too. Feels the blood pounding in his body, can hear the noises Stiles attempts to stifle and his heartbeat climbing.

“You like it.” Derek agrees, liking the way Stiles’ skin looks, the marks dotting it, his blown pupils.

“Lucky you.” He moans.

two of pentacles

They don’t intend to keep it a secret.

They just don’t tell anyone.

Stiles wakes up and deals with the same things he always did before having sex with Derek. He talks to Scott, helps him with his new alpha powers and assignments and bitches about lacrosse and how unfair it is there’s three werewolves on the team. He listens to Scott and his fears about what happened that night with the alphas. He hugs his dad, makes dinner, sometimes shops for groceries, and brings his dad lunch at the station.

But now Stiles also goes to see Derek when Scott works or stalks Allison. Sometimes Derek comes over when his dad is gone for the nigh and isn’t going to come back.

It’s just—

It’s normal and Stiles feels so settled and happy and maybe that’s why he didn’t realized he’d been juggling too very different aspects of his life until he drops one.

queen of swords

Stiles drops his bag by the door and Derek turns another page. He can hear Stiles’ heavy sigh, him toeing off his shoes and his sure steps that will lead him directly to Derek.

They don’t say anything.

Derek gets comfortable and tugs Stiles on top. Stiles shifts until he’s comfortably blanketing Derek and it isn’t long before Stiles’ breath evens out and he sleeps.

Derek turns another page.

eight of cups

“The _mara_ won’t willing give up her victim, Derek.” Deaton shakes his head. “You can’t kill her without killing Stiles. What you’re asking for isn’t a cure. It’s an exchange. Are you willing to take his place?”

“Yes.” Derek levels him with green eyes. “What do I have to do?”

Deaton broadcasts his surprise through his face, his breath and his body. Derek hasn’t _survived_ this long without knowing his lines. And one of those lines, one of those things he refuses to give up? Is locked in a nightmare as some overrated ghost leeches his life away. Derek doesn’t have much to guard jealousy, but what he does have; he isn’t ashamed or apologetic about how _selfish_ , how possessive he is.

_“What would you do to save someone you love?”_

ten of pentacles

“I think I could get stuck in my visions.” Derek hears Lydia whisper.

He jerks and looks around. He thought he was alone. He can’t see her. All there is are the trees and he can’t smell her either.

“Why?” Derek stares at the trees.

Lydia and Stiles’ voices are echoing, coming from the rustling overhead branches. Stunned, Derek looks up at them. Why can he hear them? Why are the woods _letting_ him? Every since the Summer Court came and went, the woods have been sentient, “Like the Forbidden Forest or something.” Stiles laughed. And they hardly aid Derek. They prefer Stiles.

“Everything is perfect. Beautiful.”

And he listens to the two magic users speak about a future he doesn’t dare think about. Listens to them speak about Danny’s and Isaac’s twin girls and Lydia’s three boys and the child that flickers in both their visions as of if her parents haven’t decided yet.

They paint him a future he desperately wants.

queen of pentacles

“Why are doing this?” Derek aks, the pain forcing him to double over.

The Faire Queen smiles. Her touch is cool and soothing and she holds a cup to his lips. “I want to meet your Second. He’s bargained for your life so often, even I have heard of him. I’m curious. About you as well. How do you inspire such loyalty wolf-brother?”

“If I knew how, I would know how not fuck it up.” He says, dizzy and half conscious.

“Interesting,” Her yellow eyes amused.

“Why do you want him?”

“I’ve already met witchlings, even those apart of the Triple Goddess aspect. I know her Path. I’ve seen other women take it. Your Second – I find him curious. So much power dedicated to _you_. Not a Way or Path.”

It must be the herbs mxing with his werewolf physiology, but he dazedly thinks she’s acting like a mother. A mother wanting to check on her wild children.

king of pentacles

“Danny and Isaac are on a date.” Stiles takes a step forward. “Peter and Melissa are spending the weekend in Lake Tahoe.” He takes another. “Jackson and Lydia are visiting that coven in San Francisco.” He takes another step; Derek bumps into the kitchen wall.

“We have the apartment to ourselves. No other super sense beings anywhere close by.” Stiles puts his hands on either side of Derek. “No know-it-all witnesses. Just me, and you.”

“Do you have something in mind?” Derek raises an eyebrow.

“ _May_ -be.” And presses his body, into Derek’s, melding their mouths together.

knight of pentacles

“Tell me to leave.” Derek punctuates each word with a kiss and hot hands.

“But I don’t want you to.” Stiles breathes, pulling him close.

They stumble back to the bed, Derek landing on Stiles, “Oof.”

“Why is it every time I try leaving, you drag me back?” Derek groans. Stiles bites his jaw.

“Part of my mastermind plan.” Stiles says. His hands pushing Derek’s shirt up, searching for a nipple to nip.

“Really?” Derek says, no longer interested in the conversation.

nine of wands

The Argents and Scott leave the night of graduation.

Melissa is hugging her son hard. His breath labored. Allison and Chris look on with consideration and a little sadness. The pack watches mother and son silently. For all their disputes, all their bitter words, they could always turn to each other with the monsters were too strong.

“I love you.” Melissa says.

Danny, Isaac and even Jackson all hug Scott goodbye and Lydia kisses Scott lightly on the mouth. Feeling Stiles shudder, Derek clamps a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and pulls him close. They both nod at Scott who nods stiffly back.

It’s an ending just as much it’s a beginning.

seven of wands

The _mara_ is a beautiful woman, ethereally white and Derek can see how she haunted the centuries. Derek hates her. _They_ hate her.

The magic demands to be used and Stiles gave him the ability not the knowledge and simply lets the magic go. It crackles and wind rips at the _mara_ and Derek pounces on her.

His body ripples with the change and when he lands on four paws, he is a wolf, growling, tearing at flesh that tastes like a corpse and her attacks do _nothing_. He is invulnerable to her pitiful attacks, magic glittering darkly in his fur.

He doesn’t stop until he’s torn her apart. Until she can never put herself back together again.

He howls and the magic sings with him.

three of wands

When Stiles first moves in, they skirt around each other and their collective issues for three days. Stiles and Derek were not made to skirt each other. It made them both lonely, like there was chasm of “too much shit” between them. They’re meant to push and pull at each other.

“Talk to me. Yell at me.” It’s a surprise when Derek breaks first. But he’s gotten so used to Stiles and hhis “loud” that the silence is tearing at him. “Do something.”

Stiles says, relieved. “Why would I yell? You didn’t do anything.” His words had gotten stuck the past few days and thank god they were finally coming back.

“Your dad—”

“You didn’t make me choose.” Stiles shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been good. Really good.” Stiles tentatively reaches for Derek, for the first time in three days, who instantly crowds him.

the emperor

Derek’s pack was not battle born.

The night they were to face the Alpha pack, it had been him, Peter, Isaac and Jackson. He had ripped out Peter’s throat months previous after he stuck a fist through his chest after the man ripped Laura in two. Derek’s stress levels could not be higher unless Peter started gunning to be _the_ alpha and not just an alpha, which Derek would gladly give him at this point. There’s Isaac who’s still brand new and they’re hunting Isaac’s old packmates. Everyone has a breaking point and Derek fears Isaac’s already there. And Jackson is just a headcase. The kid has issues to rival Derek’s and Derek’s entire family died but you don’t see terrorizing the town as a giant reptile do you?

They’re just a band of misfits standing next to each other because they’re too damaged and broken for Scott to understand.

So no. It’s not the battle against the Alphas that bring them together as _a pack_.

It’s a sneak attack that Derek never saw coming because he’d given up.

And one by one, they come to Derek, wanting to be pack, to have that buffer against the rest of the world.

Stiles, Peter, Isaac, Jackson, Lydia, Danny, Melissa.

the empress

“She called you mother? Why did she do that? Oh my god, is Jackson going to be a daddy? Because I thought you had a five year plan and babies were not involved except for in your ten year plan.” Stiles says.

“ _Lydia_ ,” And Jackson sounds horrified by the concept of a baby being included in their lives at _eighteen_.

“She’s not pregnant.” Derek says to calm people down.

“Is time travel a thing? Because there was a story arc like that on _Sailor Moon_ and I don’t think I want to meet anyone’s future children.” Stiles begins.

“It—it sounded more like a title, didn’t it?” Isaac interjects softly. “Mother.”

“It seems dear Lydia is the Mother in the Goddess Trinity.” Peter smirks.

There’s silence as everyone tries processing this new information, but everyone is miles behind Stiles and Lydia.

Stiles whistled. “I always knew you were goddess level.”

“Why does this surprise anyone?” Lydia remarks. “Of course I’m a goddess.”

the tower

“Argent is using his daughter’s status as Scott’s anchor to control the boy.” There’s pity in Peter’s voice. For all the bad blood, for all the pain, Scott was Peter’s much like Lydia was his. His children. “And he’s gotten more competent with his claws.”

Derek remembers. Stiles gave his loyalty to Scott and his wolf and the alpha instincts treated the human boy like a werewolf. Which he wasn’t and Scott couldn’t separate or explain to his wolf Stiles was human and could change his mind. That he’d want to.

So Derek has to wrestle that assumption from Scott.

Scott is all raw power. He’s stronger, his hits landing and bruising. One day, he’ll be a very formidable opponent. Unlike before, when he was young and untouched by blood, he doesn’t flinch. He inhales it eagerly sinking into the alpha bloodlust.

But today is not the day Scott proves himself.

Derek has years on Scott.

Years of learning how to fight. Years of moving seamlessly with his wolf. He doesn’t need to think about what he sees, smells or hears. He just reacts. It gives him the edge of speed and he lands every hit. Solar plexus, the throat, diaphragm. He doesn’t maim or purposely break Scott. It’ll prolong the dominance battle by hours, but Derek respects Stiles enough to not tear apart Scott and shove in his face how misplaced his loyalty had been all this time.

judgment

Chris Argent orchestrated everything up this point. He released information as he saw fit. Uses it to prod Scott and Stiles against the werewolf party. It’s in his disdain for the pack hierarchy, how they change ranks, his mocking of their weaknesses. It’s in the way he trains them specifically how to use werewolf physiology to their advantage. How he recounts the hunter lore in admiring tones and clipped words about werewolf lore.

Unfortunately for him, Stiles always wanted to be an informed voter.

The Argent Code dictates they cannot harm an innocent human in their quest to exterminate werewolves; however, nothing stops them from allying with people who _will_.

He asks Deaton about human anchors or family members who’ve been taken hostage and his sad eyes answer him, “You should ask Derek. I know his parents taught him the lore.”

Stiles swallows hard and feels like he’s choking. “That’s the reason werewolves run and hide from the hunters, isn’t it?”

“Ask Derek.” Deaton advises again.

This is how Stiles finds himself spending time in Derek’s surly company. They’re often alone and there isn’t any pressing matters besides the alpha pack. It’s all silliness and hasty judgments but eventually –

Eventually it’s almost like friendship.

the hanged man

“Because it’s not a matter of giving in. It’s surrendering. It’s accepting what is and giving up control. It’s about being _happy_. I know you feel this. Fuck, there’s times I’m just your bitch, but I don’t care because I’m happy. Whatever this is between us, Derek, it’s stronger and scarier than hell. I’m petrified of it. I think anyone in their right mind would be. But fuck if I give it up. Being happy is worth it. You’re worth it. Just accept it, ‘kay? Stop fighting it. _Me_.”

four of wands

The Summer Court came to Beacon Hills by luck. Mostly Derek’s bad luck it seemed. They took residence in the woods and the trees he’s known his whole life morphed into a colorful place of flowers and fruit.

He keeps from the woods, but he can still hear the voices speaking in a bizarre language, laughter and shouting. “They’ll be gone soon. They’re merely celebrating their Queen’s reign.” Peter informs. “Stay away from the woods. They play tricks and aren’t above stealing mortals for their amusement.”

What they hadn’t been expecting was how well the trick would be executed.

Isaac got himself stolen and as his alpha, Derek was obligated to take him back.

He isn’t dumb about this. He doesn’t just leave and go after Isaac the second he finds out. No. He texts Stiles, sets up a time he’ll be back at or rally the rest of the pack and brings Peter as back up.

It still doesn’t stop Derek, Peter and Isaac from being tortured but he _tried_. “And that’s progress.” Stiles says proudly.

six of wands

The thing about winning and surviving Stiles had found is it means they’re still alive the next day.

Usually there’s issues.

Take example, after the decimation of the alpha pack. Stiles has – not nightmares exactly – but dreams about Boyd and Erica. In these dreams, they were always together, fresh and free in a way they weren’t when Derek killed them. (Derek prefers sleeping in his wolf form after, his dreams vague and the guilt follows him whenever he sees long blonde curls or a strong shadow until he hates what he’s done and himself a little but he survives because he doesn’t know how not to.)

Then the _mara_ turned him into an insomniac. He sleeps in bursts and when Derek finally bargains him into thirty minute naps, he can only sleep fitfully with sunlight on his face. (He keeps a light on by the bed when they sleep now. He can’t stand the idea of another _mara_ hiding in the darkness biding her time and its good Stiles can’t sleep for awhile because Derek wakes with his claws ready to tear apart and fangs ready to rip open half a dozen times.)

Stiles is tired for a month after the Summer Court leaves. He goes to school, sleeps and eats. The woods he’s making _theirs_ draining him at all hours. He’s a shaky mess that could be mistaken as a zombie before his body adapts. It almost kills him. He’ll admit it in the privacy of his own mind if the pack is nowhere to be seen.  (The Summer Court had been visiting the mortal realm. A year here was a hundred there. In the hour Derek was gone, he’d been tortured for days and it takes the constant closeness of his pack and Stiles to soothe his raw nerves.)

They’re fucked up and they get more fucked up each time something supernatural knocks at the door.

Everything has a price, including success.

ten of swords

“I like Scott.” Isaac says and it’s small.

Derek and Peter exchange a look.

“I know.” Derek says.

“I’m sorry.” Peter says.

“And I like Boyd and Erica.” Isaac continues.

“I know.” Derek’s voice is softer now.

“I don’t—” And Isaac squeezes his eyes shut tight, whines escaping his throat that makes the two Hale men lean close until the crowd each other.

“I’m sorry.” Derek says.

“I know.” Peter says.

Because sometimes there are no other words.

ace of pentacles

It’s prom night and instead of dressing in expensive clothing and dancing, his pack is here in the sanctuary Stiles made, sitting in between the roots of ancient trees that shouldn’t exist but do. It’s dark. Stars dotting the sky, the crescent moon high in the sky.

Lydia is practicing her magic. Three little balls of light glowing around her as she attempts to light their little space enough for her and Stiles to see. Peter is beside her, giving suggestions, speaking theory that Derek doesn’t follow. Their voices just a hum pushing him to sleep, but he’s sure Stiles is following the conversation even as speaks to Danny.

Isaac and Jackson are a half a mile away, working the rest of their issues out once and for all it seems. Blood, tears and snot on the air. _Magic comes in threes,_ Derek thinks, amused. “This is our family. We both belong in it. For some reason we have people who love us and want us. Eventually we’re going to fuck it up.” Derek hears Isaac shout. “Especially with our track records and that’s why we need each other. So we know when we do something dumb. Like a safety-net.” _Everyone has a safety buddy_ , he thinks, _to pull them back from they edge of regret_. The trees rustle and he loses Jackson’s response.

Danny is talking to Stiles about the pros and cons of starting an online beastiary, or a supernatural help forum. Derek doesn’t know how serious they are since the conversation goal seems to be who can make the most references to supernatural TV shows. “But in Buffy—”

And Derek is mostly blissed out and fully wolfed out, draped over Stiles’ lap like a blanket, enjoying the hand Stiles drags down his back and Derek flicks his tail happy and sleepy.

eight of pentacles

“You’re making dream catchers.” Stiles says to test the waters.

The disdainful look Lydia tosses his way is very similar to the look she gave the stoner kid in their eighth grade math class when he asked what an integer was.

“How astute.”

“Why are you making dream catchers?” Stiles amends.

Her fingers move quick, weaving patterns taking place in the loom and she adds bobbles as she saw fit. The dream catcher in her hands was furry like a rabbit, maybe even the same rabbit Jackson was proud of catching, with little gold bells and bent bird feathers.

“So you can all sleep.” She says.

Stiles waits for her to finish tying a knot because Lydia is like every genius and loves flaunting her brilliance to an apperciateive audience. “Your magic works with your belief and will.” Stiles obediantly nods. “Mine works by charging objects that hold symbolism to various cultures, the connotation attached to them making them work. My magic lets the objects work, but a person’s belief makes it stronger. I need herbs, charms, special knives to cast.”

“Oh.” He breathes.

He settles in to watch her make her dream catchers and tells her about the Goddess and Horned God that powered her magic and debated their existence that developed into a theory of maybe they weren’t real in a body sense but as a mathematical formula for life, or as a DNA strand. They argued long into the day and had to be broken apart when the name calling began.

“It scares me how you two are the powerful ones.” Jackson snarks.

strength

Day by day, his anger dissipates.

Kate is dead. He has the beginning of a family. He’s living instead of surviving.

His anger is his control though, How he keeps his wolf from coming out to play whenever it wants. It’s strange the first time he realizes anger isn’t bringing him back so he shifts again and again until he’s sure his anger can’t bring him back.

Huh.

He needs a new anchor.

(He tells people its coffee, but it’s really the burn of Stiles’ mark in his skin.)

seven of pentacles

“Captain Kirk was right. I love you is shit. It doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. The promises I want to make. “Let me help” should replace I love you. Now that’s a promise. That’s a vow. To be there because you want to be. To help carry another’s burdens for the sake of lessening the weight on the other’s person’s shoulder. “Let me help” is about trust. Trust that someone will give it but also accept it.” He takes a breath. “So let me _help_.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) For timeline reference: (Stiles and Scott find out about the alpha pack via Argent) alpha pack (Derek and Stiles relationship starts), the mara (Stiles moves in with Derek), the Summer Court (Stiles makes his Court).
> 
> 2) Is Allison really using Scott? No (because they are True Love) but Derek and company are cynical bastards.
> 
> 3) Any parent's reaction to their only son, their only link to their late spouse, risking life and limb (not to mention having sex with older men) is not going to be acceptance. It's going to be anger and fear and it's going to hurt everyone. Why wouldn't the Sheriff fight Stiles moving in with Derek? Sure, he could use the older man, statutory rape thing, but his son is heavily involved with werewolves and magic -- both things to fear.
> 
> 4) Lydia is the Mother from the Goddess Trinity -- Maiden, Mother and Crone.


End file.
